


A Look Within

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen was never fit to be an uncle, much less a father, but he does the best he can. Owen and Luke through the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Look Within

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the most interesting relationships to me, and I just wanted to explore it some/explore how much Owen knew and play with tiny Luke. 
> 
> (I'm still not really satisfied with this tbh I'm not sure I'll ever be; it was kind of exhausting lol)

Beru cradled the infant against her chest, and Owen knew all was lost. He’d had his misgivings about taking Luke in—he’d barely been a brother, wasn’t sure if that was enough to be an uncle, and he certainly wasn’t a father. And Luke had been born into tragedy with the blood of a Sith Lord pumping through his veins.

They weren’t prepared to handle this. 

But Beru took the child from Kenobi, and Owen saw her face change, soften into a smile, and that was that. They’d already said yes, but now it was confirmed and Owen hadn’t even seen Luke yet. 

She brought Luke over to him while Kenobi watched and Owen tried not to stare at him. Kenobi slipped away though, when Beru handed Owen the baby and his gaze turned to the small body nestled in his arms, sleeping peacefully, trusting totally that he was safe and protected though his world had fallen apart before he’d even been born into it. 

Owen was undone, and he vowed he’d keep this child safe.  

“He’ll be just like his father,” he told Beru, staring down at his nephew’s small face. 

“Now’s not the time for fear,” she admonished him, hand settling fondly on his arm so that she could peer over at the baby too. 

“Look at him,” she added softly. “How can you know what he’s going to be? He’s Luke, and he’s ours.” 

He was Luke, and he was theirs, and Owen loved him as best he could.

 

*********

 

“Do you think we should change his name?” Beru asked one day, not quite a year later.

It was just after dinner, and she was kneeling on the ground, letting Luke hold her hands as he took a few clumsy steps, shrieking with laughter; he laughed a lot.

“Hmm?” 

“His _name_ ,” Beru said impatiently, glancing up at Owen. “From Skywalker, I mean. Won’t it keep him safer?” 

Her brow furrowed as she turned back to the baby, and Luke stopped, sensing her distress. He reached out his tiny hands to pat at her face. 

“No,” Owen said slowly as Beru wiped away her distress and made a silly face at Luke so he wouldn’t start crying; he cried a lot too. 

“No,” Owen repeated, firmer. Then, “Shmi was a Skywalker and Anakin her son; it seems only right that her grandson should have her name.”

Beru looked back to him and smiled sadly. “She’d be proud, I think.”

 “Besides,” Owen continued. “Who’d think to look for him here?”

He crouched down and Beru let go of Luke’s hands, gave the baby a small nudge, and he toddled over to Owen. Owen grabbed him up in his arms, and Luke settled in, head resting on his uncle’s shoulder.

Beru watched for a minute, then said, “You’re probably right. I just worry.”

Owen worried too.

 

*********

 

When Luke was approaching his tenth birthday, he sat down next to Owen; he was too big now to crawl into people’s laps like he used to, and Owen, who’d never been good at physical affection, couldn’t decide if he missed it or not. Luke was quiet for a minute, unusual for him who could chatter the ear off anyone who would listen and even those who wouldn’t.

Owen took the chance to look him over. He was still small with floppy blonde hair and big blue eyes Owen wasn’t sure he’d ever grow into; his cheeks and knees were smudged with dirt and dust, but he didn’t look bruised or any worse for wear than usual. So Owen waited. 

Eventually, Luke said, “Uncle Owen?” 

Owen glanced over at him. “Yes?” 

“Are you busy?” 

“Just taking a break.”

“Oh.”

Luke was quiet again, chewing on his lip. Then, he tugged at Owen’s sleeve and said, words tumbling over each other in a rush, “Uncle Owen, will you tell me about my father, please, please?” 

Owen let his breath out in a small sigh and turned back to his nephew. Luke clung to his sleeve still, gazing up at him with those damned blue eyes. 

“He died during the Clone Wars,” Owen said. He’d decided long ago the lie was best, would save Luke from any grandiose ideas or broken hearts; Beru didn’t agree, but despite their whispered arguments at night, she went along with it for now. “He was the navigator on a spice freighter. I thought you knew this?” 

Luke nodded, casting his gaze down. “I do,” he said. “But what was he _like_?” 

Owen stamped down on the word rising to his lips—Luke was idealistic enough without thinking his father was too—but that left him without a good answer. He’d only met his stepbrother once and briefly, but that wasn’t what Luke needed to hear. He borrowed from Shmi, then, and said, “He was very brave.” 

Luke’s eyes shone, eager for more, but Owen clapped a hand to his shoulder and stood, saying, “Come on, I need your help with the vaporators.” 

Luke made a face. “But I was going to meet Biggs to--,”

“Not fly, I hope,” Owen said sharply. 

When Luke wouldn’t meet his gaze, Owen softened his voice and said, “Soon, I promise,” he said. “I'll teach you when you’re older. Now come help me; it won’t take long and you’ll be free to meet your friends after.”

“Fine,” Luke said, and he trudged after Owen.

 

*********

 

Luke turned 15 and crashed a Skyhopper. He showed up at home with a broken arm and a scraped up face, covered in dust and escorted by Kenobi.

Owen pretended like he was only mad about the expensive ship repairs and not worried sick over the arm in a sling and reckless decisions. He fussed at Luke, who, for once, didn’t say anything, then turned the kid over so Beru could fuss over him. 

And then he turned to Kenobi and gestured for the man to follow him outside. It wasn’t the first time in 15 years Owen had seen Kenobi, but Owen had made it clear that he didn’t want him around his nephew. 

“I was only helping,” Kenobi said before Owen even opened his mouth.

This just infuriated Owen more. “And I thank you for that,” he said. “But I still--,” 

“Want me to stay away, I understand,” Kenobi interrupted. “I didn’t tell him anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Owen hated how perceptive the man was. “Good,” he said, sharper than he’d intended.

Kenobi narrowed his eyes at him though, and it struck Owen how old he looked; when he’d first showed up, Luke in his arms, he’d been young and devastated. Now, he looked older than he really should have, as if the weight of his sorrow had consumed him.

“He’ll have to know one day, you know,” Kenobi said, and Owen shook his head. 

“Why? So that you can train him in your ways and he turn out like his father? No, it’s safer for him here. That’s why you brought him here in the first place.”

Kenobi nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “But now he’s growing older. He needs--,” 

“Not you,” Owen butt in. “Not your Jedi code or idealistic crusades that’ll get him killed. You left his needs up to me, and now I’m telling you, he doesn’t need you.” 

“He’s not destined to be a moisture farmer,” Kenobi said. 

“He’s Luke,” Owen said. “Let him just be that.” 

“I want to,” Kenobi said; his voice softened and gaze became distant, wistful. “But who is Luke Skywalker? His destiny will come for him soon enough; I want him to be ready, and he’ll only be ready if he’s trained in the ways of the Force.” 

“Thank you for helping my nephew,” Owen said stiffly. “I think you should go now.”

Kenobi nodded once more, and then he turned and left. Owen stared after him for a moment, then shook his head, and returned inside, where Beru gave him a stern look. 

“He’s very upset,” she told Owen, voice low, as she nodded towards Luke’s room. “You should go talk to him.”

Owen rubbed his face, but nodded. Luke sat on his bed when Owen came in, and said, immediately, earnestly, big eyes staring into Owen’s face, “I really am sorry about the ship, Uncle Owen. Real sorry.” 

“I know, Luke,” Owen said, sitting down next to him. “But I need you to be more careful. It was reckless and dangerous and now look at you. How are you going to farm with a broken arm, hmm?”

Luke grimaced, but he was quiet for a minute. Then, he blurted, “I don’t think I want to be a moisture farmer.” 

It didn’t really surprise Owen. “So what do you want to do?”

“Be a pilot,” Luke said, eager now that he hadn’t been shot down so quickly. “Biggs and I planned it all. We’re gonna go to the Imperial Academy and fly.”

“The Imperial Academy?” Owen said, eyebrow arching. “To fight for an Empire in wars that are a long way away.” He shook his head. “You really want to be involved in all that?” 

“I want to fly,” Luke snapped, face flushing. He looked close to jumping up, hands on his hips and giving Owen a piece of his mind. Everyone forgot it, Owen himself included, but Luke had a lot of fight in him. “And anyway, maybe getting involved in things isn’t so bad. It’s better than being stuck here for the rest of my life doing nothing important!”

“The work we do here is important,” Owen said and Luke looked appropriately abashed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Owen sighed but patted Luke’s head. “I know,” he said, standing. He made to leave the room, but then turned and added, “Luke, try to stay away from Old Ben Kenobi.”

Luke looked alarm and Owen hastened to reassure him. “He’s harmless,” he said. “Just an old hermit who’s gone a little off in the past few years. I’d prefer you kept your distance.”

“Okay,” Luke said, staring down at his hands.

“And Luke?” The kid looked up, and Owen smiled. “Make sure to get some good sleep tonight. You’ll have double chores in the morning.”

 

*********

 

The Empire came to the farm one day, looking for droids, and Owen wondered if this was Luke’s destiny catching up with him. He shuddered at the thought that all his work had been for nothing, in the end. 

His home caught fire, and he held Beru, knowing this was the end. 

 _Stay away_ , he thought, his earlier annoyance at Luke’s early departure turned to desperate hope his boy had gotten. 

Flames licked at him, his breath turned ragged from smoke. 

 _Stay away, Luke, stay away, stay away._  

If this is what his nephew was facing, had he really kept him safe? Had he kept his promise all these years? Was Luke better off not knowing?

 _Stay away, stay away, stay away_.

And then there was nothing but a roaring fire and a tentative hope and a farmboy orphaned twice over.


End file.
